Where the Heart Is

As you can tell from the blog's title, I often think (some may say obsess) about home and what it means. Another cliche I might have used is "home is where the heart is." I often found that a profound, if unrealistic, statement. Most of us search our whole lives trying to find the people, and eventually, the special person, who complete and fill our hearts with so much love. Home, however, is a ready-made place for most of us. I am extremely lucky that I have a family so loving. They may not ever fully accept that I'm gay, but for the sake of that love, they are willing to at least ignore it and shower me with every other kind of support and encouragement.

Which is why I miss home so much this break. Thursday was a roller-coaster day of emotions. Yes, every bit of Rising Rabbits was an awesome experience and so much fun. But in between those high points came deep valleys of midterms and other academic setbacks, enough to discourage me from the progress I made last semester. Academically, I fear I find myself in the same place I was before I took time off; missing class to catch some sleep; needing it not because I stayed up late studying, but rather procrastinating on the inter-tubes. Going home for spring break may have recharged my batteries like going home for a semester did. But sadly, I'm stuck here, mostly by necessity, to work at Widener and earn some money. I also have a lot of work to do, like finishing my personal narratives for the foreign service process, catching up on the immense amount of reading I let slide, and still trying to make HoCo even more awesome.

I still love Harvard; both for the opportunities and because the people here are beyond amazing, and my friends are the best example I have of such awesomeness. But back in some small New Mexican town is where my heart is.